ons on them also. It is a
good thing to be accurate; it is desperately essential in a novel.
The average reader, in his triumph at discovering some slight error of
detail, would consign a masterpiece of imagination, knowledge of life
and character to the rubbish-heap.

I believe that 'The Weavers' represents a wider outlook of life, closer
understanding of the problems which perplex society, and a clearer
view of the verities than any previous book written by me, whatever its
popularity may have been. It appealed to the British public rather more
than 'The Right of Way', and the great public of America and the Oversea
Dominions gave it a welcome which enabled it to take its place beside
'The Right of Way', the success of which was unusual.

NOTE

This book is not intended to be an historical novel, nor are its
characters meant to be identified with well-known persons connected with
the history of England or of Egypt; but all that is essential in the
tale is based upon, and drawn from, the life of both countries. Though
Egypt has greatly changed during the past generation, away from Cairo
and the commercial centres the wheels of social progress have turned but
slowly, and much remains as it was in the days of which this book is a
record in the spirit of the life, at least.

G. P.

"Dost thou spread the sail, throw the spear, swing the axe, lay
thy hand upon the plough, attend the furnace door, shepherd the
sheep upon the hills, gather corn from the field, or smite the
rock in the quarry? Yet, whatever thy task, thou art even as
one who twists the thread and throws the shuttle, weaving the
web of Life. Ye are all weavers, and Allah the Merciful, does
He not watch beside the loom?"

CHAPTER I. AS THE SPIRIT MOVED

The village lay in a valley which had been the bed of a great river in
the far-off days when Ireland, Wales and Brittany were joined together
and the Thames flowed into the Seine. The place had never known turmoil
or stir. For generations it had lived serenely.

Three buildings in the village stood out insistently, more by the
authority of their appearance and position than by their size. One was a
square, red-brick mansion in the centre of the village, surrounded by a
high, redbrick wall enclosing a garden. Another was a big, low, graceful
building with wings. It had once been a monastery. It was covered
with ivy, which grew thick